


Within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king; keeps Death his court.

by Scarleystars



Category: Inception (2010), Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Pre-Macbeth, modern macbeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarleystars/pseuds/Scarleystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan the company 'King' is set to retire in a year and leave the multimillion pound business to his son; care of his right hand man. He hears the ugly rumours of an old friend's hidden greed and hires an extractor team to see where Macbeth's loyalties truly lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king; keeps Death his court.

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on livejournal here [http://submissionadict.livejournal.com/35934.html]  
> title is another Shakepeare quote

_You  may my glories and my state depose, _

_But not my griefs;_

_still am I king of those._

-Shakespeare

* * *

 

And so I called in the professionals.

  
I needed to know if I could trust them. Macbeth and his pretty wife. Trust them with my life, my business, and my son. And so I called someone who knew someone who knew someone who knew how to find these ‘dream thieves’ and I gave them a proposition. They asked for an extortionate amount of money, but that was only proper when dealing with a company owner the size of mine. The king, some call me.  
The King indeed.  
   
They set it up with the ease and speed of a TV commercial. Like a performance, where I was to take centre stage. First one to the finish line wins. I didn’t want to be proven right, after all, Macbeth and I were old friends. He was the Jack to my King. But _her_. Oh I trusted her as far as I could throw her.  
  
And down the plunger fell.  
  
It was a relatively small team I had come to understand it, a forger, an architect, a point man and myself, the glorious spectator omniscient and everywhere. No need for any extras. For the happy couple were going to take the lead roles all by themselves. Just in need of a little… _push_ to see how the land lay.  
  
Now watch; scene the first: Macbeth discovers three executives pondering life under his ‘rule’ instead of mine.  
  
The seed is sown.  
  
The missus, hearing of the tale, suddenly brought back to the vigour she’d had before the accident.  
A root, a shoot, a leaf, a tree.  
 _A plan._

  
I watched my own death; a projection, they assured me.  
  
Well that cleared that up then.  
  
But after the deed was done, then the real show began.  
  
Mrs Macbeth had been a woman to be admired before the accident; strong, crafty, and the looks to back it up, even during her pregnancy. But then she was hit by a motorcyclist on her way to the hospital, contractions getting shorter and she lost the babe. Now, she was just hungry and malicious and sly.  
  
In the dream, still haunted by the death of that child she got to hold just once, the blood on her hands from killing me drove her even more insane. Her own projections tore each other apart and she was blind to the carnage. Blind to anything but her own hands stained red. She drove herself to suicide, and doubtlessly woke up feeling horrid. Serves her right the bitch.  
My dear once-friend Macbeth, however, conjured up his own punishment, in the form of a ‘man’ called MacDuff. The shade was oddly familiar, yet not someone I recognised, but it pursued Macbeth like the plague, dropping hints into this pretend life, leaving fear in it’s wake. Fear tinged with relief; that the charade would be over, and Macbeth would receive the punishment he thought he deserved for my 'death'.  
  
There was a final showdown, in a place that shouldn’t exist. That couldn’t exist outside of the dream.  
  
“When water flows upside-down will Macbeth meet his end,” the executives had joked. Yet in dreams, the laws of physics don’t matter.  
  
So there goes the water  
  
Dripping up towards the sun.  
  
Red as strawberries.  
  
  
And I wake  
  
And he wakes  
  
And I look down at him and whisper, “by the pricking of my thumbs something evil just was done”  
  
And he screams.  
  
  
  
And I smile.


End file.
